Luyện nghe bài hát Sad Millionaire

Can I do my

*(Yukmouth)*

on it.

*(Brownstone)*

Oh, oh, ohhh.
Oh, oh, ohh, hey.

1 *(Yukmouth)*

Uh.
Niggaz be havin the fuckin blues,
like
I lie,
homicide,
will cry,
pray for me I won't die,
suicide,
I try,
fly,
drive-by,
let it slide, do or die,
you an I, by,
them niggaz off my side,
wit to hide body die rot,
on porch,
when I expectin sort of drive-by,
retaliation,
under I lace, MOBBulation,
lets begin breakin the situation,
when, the end of our frustration,
so while we racin the block, wit a thirty-eight, an glock,
the cops is to umm,
on yo vehicle,
run yo vehicle,
if they have to gun down yo vehicle,
nigga, up in high-speedaz,
they be the Rosco Bico train,
swervin in an lanes,
from O-H-A,
what throw away,
eh, though, eh, way,
pistol,
every mutha fucka peep.

x2 *(Brownstone & Yukmouth)*

Millionaire!
Dreams of big play.
Ever seen a sad
I thought that money us happy.

2 *(Yukmouth)*

if I was a millionaire,
huh,
a playa on the block,
a mac daddy, drivin a black Caddy couldn't stop,
hella happy,
'cause slangin all my rocks,
yo gats at me,
I don't where uzis to yo knot,
fo wit the big shot,
I was juss flat g bannos on the ground,
be down,
one of my shit, an get shot,
only the bitches jock,
get chosen,
shouts,
for out there who be voguin,
on the of poppa,
brand new hundred billz, an a choppa,
where niggaz fo real, like Chubacca,
who got the gonga,
'cause I be high like doctor,
on vodka,
eatin lobster, Frank Sinatra,
Smoke-A-Lot be the MOBBsta, who ya,
like Blanca,
back in the end juss to haunt ya,
plus I twist a Benz Big Poppa,
what's the big use,
go get yo bread an do what ya to be a,
playa.

x2

3 *(Yukmouth)*

Uh.
You niggaz created a monsta,
fuck a type, I gonga,
in the Bahammas,
fuckin yo mama,
(whoo,wee!)
two wow, you wow,
man,
who wow "Bout it, it",
be claimin they be the Ice Cream Man,
but I it, doubt it,
be rowdy,
hit the chasin clout it,
sky up out the ugly four day la-la-by yo like a ballot,
blunts, an crunchin weed, sex,
fresh outta rehabs,
two g's at every function I be at,
that, BITCH!!
Ya is Smoke-A-Lot,
grab by the throat-a-lot,
that's ya told the cops,
I the glock,
aim it an fire,
retire nigga,
nameless,
is fo hire,
desire fire,
light as I'm a her,
so called "potnaz", fuck 'em,
an dust em off wit a choppa, I rush 'em,
gotta 'em,
too skinny I trust 'em,
an when the mutha fuckaz got meal tickets you might to love 'em,
an fo real.
Nigga.

x5

*(Yukmouth talking chorus)*

Have all fuckin money, an still ain't happy. Nigga, still got
problems wit stress, mutha fuckaz think you got it made, they try
to rob you an shit, yo own potnaz in the hood wanna love you. Fuck
money, I I didn't have it, 'cause when I didn't have it it was all
good, niggaz loved me when I was juss drinkin brew an at the store.
Now ya got money wanna kill me, nigga, ya own relatives wanna
do you, skanless boy, this is Nine Skrillion, a million bucks.
Millionaire.